


Spirit

by scrapbullet



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Ficlet, Gen, Hand-Wavy Force Powers (Star Wars), Not Beta Read, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28877859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapbullet/pseuds/scrapbullet
Summary: “That kid is a Tooka, I swear,” Dune mutters against the lip of her glass, eyeing the cute little menace with something like trepidation in her eyes. “The whole… staring off into nothing? Dank farrik it’s creepy. Like he can see-”Din huffs a laugh. “What, spirits?”Said cute little menace, tucked against Din’s side, coo’s and waves a hand in the air. His large eyes stare excitedly at the empty chair beside Dune, babbling away as if in intense conversation. Grogu pauses as if to listen to a reply, before seemingly answering, underpinned by a purr of contentment.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Cara Dune, Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda
Comments: 8
Kudos: 90





	Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> **spirit**
> 
> _adjective_  
>  \- pertaining to something that works by burning alcoholic spirits  
> \- of or relating to spiritualist bodies or activities.

“That kid is a Tooka, I swear,” Dune mutters against the lip of her glass, eyeing the cute little menace with something like trepidation in her eyes. “The whole… staring off into nothing? Dank farrik it’s creepy. Like he can see-”

Din huffs a laugh. “What, spirits?”

Said cute little menace, tucked against Din’s side, coo’s and waves a hand in the air. His large eyes stare excitedly at the empty chair beside Dune, babbling away as if in intense conversation. Grogu pauses as if to listen to a reply, before seemingly answering, underpinned by a purr of contentment.

Dune blinks, and swigs back her glass of Spotchka. “Like I said, just like a Tooka.”

Din hums, blatantly amused even through the vocoder. “Tooka’s don’t talk.”

Grogu squeals, then, squirming forward over the table top and out of Din’s hold. He doesn’t get very far, his little legs easily becoming entangled in the long robe he wears, and Din deftly picks him up before the kid can totter over the edge. “Hey, be careful!”

Scowling cutely, Grogu grumbles and points at the empty chair, and stares at Din entreatingly. _Please?_ he almost seems to say, tugging ineffectually at Din’s gloved hand. _Over there!_

“You’ll fall off,” Din states. After so long caring for the little one it doesn’t take much to pick up on what the little womp rat wants, what he means. Grogu is far more demanding now than he was all those months ago, comfortable and content in Din’s presence, and now they are as fluent in each other’s language as they can possibly be. 

“I don’t know how you can understand what he’s saying,” Dune interjects. She tops up her glass with the fluorescent blue liquid straight from the cask - Marshal’s get first rate service - and idly strokes one of Grogu’s ears. “Has he started talking yet?”

Shrugging, Din adjusts Grogu in his arms - though he continues to wriggle, becoming increasingly irate. “It’s not difficult. And no, not really. Sometimes I think he might, but-”

“Boo!” 

Din sighs. “Like that. I think he’s just too young.”

Young at fifty. How long will it take for Grogu to speak? To grow up? How long before his powers are too much for Din to handle? Anxiety is now Din’s closest companion, but when it comes to foundlings - _his foundling_ \- what else is there? 

Grogu stretches, his large, emotive eyes shuttering closed. As Din watches, the Spotchka cask slides across the table top in one, tiny, increment. It’s too heavy for the kid’s powers to handle, though, and even as the cask edges closer he can’t keep it up for long, flopping over Din’s forearm and mewling to himself, exhausted. 

“That’s not for you, kid,” Din murmurs, hefting Grogu close to his heartplate. The little one coos, tucks his head into the crook of Din’s neck, and begins to snore.

Dune moves the offending cask out of the way. “Looks like all that communing with ghosts and moving objects has tuckered him out.”

Nodding, Din holds Grogu close. “That’s why I need to find a Jedi. Grogu needs the help of his own kind.”

“I’ll keep an ear open with my old contacts,” Dune answers, “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll comm you as soon as I hear anything.” The sympathetic expression on her face is one that Din just… doesn’t want to contemplate. Letting go of the kid? Is that really something he can do?

Grogu snuffles, tiny fingers clutching at Din’s kute. Small and trusting, sheltered safely in Din’s arms.

Let it be a thought for another day, at least.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had writers block for... a while? So this may be clunky as feck (hell, it IS) but as an exercise in getting out of the funk of a block it kinda works? Anyway, hope anyone who reads it, enjoys :3


End file.
